From the Garden of Gods
by Sythe
Summary: In a barren land incapable of sustaining life, a Miko, whose most basic and most principal of powers is to give and nurture life, must seem divine in nature. It's not simple Mokuton, said Sunagakure village eldders, Mokuton only affects wood and cannot give life to dead crops. It definitely does not resurrect a village on the brink of historic financial depression either.
1. Chapter 1: Seeds and Desert

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Inuyasha or Naruto related. The only thing I own is the plot.

**Chapter 1:**** Seed and Desert **

'_A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil. Others fell among the thorns, and the thorns came up and choked them out. And others fell on the good soil and yielded a crop, some a hundredfold, some sixty, and some thirty.'_

- Matthew -

* * *

The first time Kagome Higurashi awoke in the new world, her throat was parched dry, her nose burned, and her skin came to the point where they almost crackled under the full weight of the desert sun. From her eyes, still dazed, she saw nothing but endless sand dunes and the white glare of incoming heat mirage. From her ears, she heard nothing but the howling wind playing without pause on the backdrop of an infinite silence, the likes of which she was sure could only be found in the depths of the earth and far into the deep wilderness where no man dared tread.

In the first five seconds of their meeting, face to face, this new nameless world had already shown her how harsh it could be, and how tough it would be, and Kagome—for she was never one to complain nor lament about her usually less than stellar state of affairs—in reply simply got up… no… struggled and crawled because at that point her body was already too dehydrated and she herself had grown too weak to actually sit up, stand, and walk away and out of the desert.

The sand was under her, in the space between her fingers, sprinkled on her browning skin and falling in the folds of her clothes and shoes, hot from the sun and uncomfortable in their countless grains. Eventually, after some fumbling and an infinite amount of struggling, she managed to reach her backpack. Her water bottle was in the side mesh pocket and from it, her strength came back in cool rivulets of water down her throat, inside and out, into her shirt, dampening her skin.

She saw droplets of water on the sand, being sucked into the bottomless desert sea, and with the first of her returning courage, yanked her mouth away from the bottle and stoppered it tight. Her throat burned and cried out for more—water, life, sustenance, relief and escape from this burning hell on earth—but she put her foot down.

She would need to save up the little that remained, sloshing wonderfully inside the clear plastic Camelbak bottle, for the trek ahead. Licking her dry and gradually chapping lips, she fumbled some more with the zippers on the backpack and from them withdrew a jacket, her school baseball cap, and a spare of Sango's facemask. She wet the facemask with a cupped handful of water, then she put them on, shouldered her backpack, and, with great difficulty, crawled slowly away from the clear open space of blasting sun and towards a rock jutting in the distance. In its shade, she found temporary relief from the heat, and there she slept fitfully until the sun set; the heat bleeding out from the sandy ground and the cold of desert night starting to creep along her skin. Then and only then did she fully wake up, eat her first bite of tasteless granola bar in this world, and start to find her way out of the desert.

It was never going to be easy, this she knew. And while she had some preparation from the countless wilderness survival books she had gobbled up for her trek across Feudal Japan, surviving and escaping a desert terrain—whether she had knowledge of it or not—was never a hundred percent guaranteed with success.

She walked during the night and rested in the shade during the day. She forced herself to walk slowly, conserving her strength and her will for the long days ahead. She ate slowly and in little bites, never allowing herself to progress to complete fullness. It took water, a lot of water, for the body to process food. A full stomach meant that her limited water supply would last her nowhere near as long they would if she forced herself to go regularly hungry.

So she ate, but just enough to fuel the body, never enough so that the gnawing of her stomach completely disappeared and took with it precious water that could be used to sustain her for longer. A fine balance game.

Her water bottle lasted for a full two days, after which she started digging solar stills around her shade in the day to harvest the moisture from the earth and from her own piss.

Gross, and not something the old Kagome would do without giving up some grouses and stressing out over hours better spent on surviving, but she wanted to live, and the business of living in a world where creature comforts of modernity could never reach was usually an unsavory business.

In the day, when the sun wasn't frying anything outside of shade or not made of stone, dirt, and sand, she foraged along the path of dried up riverbeds, adding moss and weeds and small burnt leaves to her stock of dried jerkies, cup ramen (which came near the point of being useless here because while she could eat them raw, their high sodium content was a huge waste of water from her body), and granola bars.

She walked North, leaving little stone cairns behind in the dirt and the sand to mark where she had been, because North was where the wind came from and where the streaks left behind by dried up waterbeds pointed to. North, where there probably was still water, somewhere in the height, high in the stone plateaus where the earth hadn't been rendered infertile.

The days were long and the nights longer, and in between surviving, she found her thoughts wandering back to her friends, to the world and family she left behind. There were no tears to shed. She was long past what happened and even in the case that the pain proved too much, tears were a terrible waste of the increasingly shrinking amount of water inside of her and her water bottle. So she trudged on, days, nights.

Her light schoolgirl uniform and added track pants were a terrible match for the terrain and the weather but it was at least durable. She tried to preserve the shoes as best she could, not wanting to have to trek through the scotching by day and freezing by night vast expanse of lifeless sand, dirt and rock on nothing but bare feet, but they probably wouldn't last forever.

She stopped counting the days. The heat was giving her intense headaches and her lips dried to the point of bleeding at times. One day a sandstorm came without warning, or maybe it did come with warning but she was too blind, deaf, and ignorant to see it coming. She managed to survive, just barely, swimming in the waves of sand with only gulps of air in her lungs, abandoning her heavy backpack to fall into the fathomless depth of the desert. There went the stuffs she so painstakingly took with her but she had made do on less.

She cut her hair till they were up to her ears and just about covered her neck from daylight. They were getting in the way and she was starting to think about the nutritions that went to nurturing them instead of keeping her alive and moving. Maybe that was grasping for straws, but who knew? She was getting to the point where sand bugs made for a scrumptious meal.

Then the demons of the past started haunting the nights. The unbearable loneliness and infinite silence was getting to her she knew. The old Kagome would have withered. The old Kagome would rather go back to her friends even if she had to die to do so. This Kagome wanted to live… not for herself, no, even now she wasn't someone who could truly and fully live just for herself, but simply because she still had something to do. Something that could never be left unfinished.

A promise to keep. She had to live. Live and keep her words.

Then one morning they appeared on the horizon of her increasingly blurring vision, the unclear but definite shapes of man made constructs in the distance.

Crouching there, because she no longer had the strength to stand upright, on the stone ledge and looking at the vague shapes in the distance, that was her first time seeing the Village Hidden by Sand. She cried. Soaring joy and a bone deep sadness welling in her chest. It could have ended there in the heart of this yet nameless desert, but in the end Kagome Higurashi yet lived. The story that started when she was a fifteen years old teen girl at the mouth of a long abandoned well was not yet over. No. Not by a long shot.

In hindsight, it was stepping from one life-threatening desert into another, only they were life threatening in different ways, but then again, what difference did it make?

* * *

They threw her out once they were done.

In the story and on TVs, the lost protagonists were always taken in, clothed, fed, and cared for by the good village folks. How many books and Video Games had she played in which her character started out as the wandering bum in some scenic small name villages with people way too charitable to be real? Whoever heard of games or books or movies where it ended right in the first act/episode/tutorial level because the hero starved to death with zero penny in her torn and patched pockets… or thrown into the brigs and left to rot?

Apparently it was so in real life. Apparently it was so if the village in question was by all means a military outpost whose access was limited to only those with the proper papers and passes and its denizens traversed in a world where farfetched espionage schemes were an everyday affair. Apparently it was so if the heroine—in this case—wandered in through the gate looking like a lunatic with zero documentations on her body and did not even speak the local language.

Of course they took her in at first, at the gate where she pathetically crawled to them on all four. Deep in the desert as they were, they had had enough of their own people—children who didn't know better, the elderlies with diminishing senses, or the mentally deficient—getting lost out in the sands only to come wandering back months later to know gentleness and leniency was called for when a little no-name waif wrapped in week-old dirt and grime layers came crawling.

They put her in a closed-off ward in the hospital, cleaned her up and nursed her until she could talk… really talk and not just make unintelligible noises with the back of her tattered throat (the heat destroyed them on the second week, and afterwards, Kagome sometimes screamed to ward off the night demons). They checked her face and her fingerprints, took her blood and hair for testing. Once they were sure she wasn't any of their lost denizens that had gotten back home by sheer feats of tenacity and luck, they threw her into the interrogation chamber where their soldiers strapped her to an iron chair and their interrogators spent countless hours growling foreign threats to her face. And when even that couldn't yield anything new out of this obviously foreign crazy girl...

… they threw her out.

On the streets, in the night. They unlocked her shackles and escorted her through several stairs and way too many gates for her frazzled mind to remember until she was standing on this side of the door leading out to the village street. They gave her a bag, cast pitying looks—usually reserved for the suicidal or the mentally retarded—at her, pushed her out the door, and closed it.

She stood there in the streets, in nothing but her offwhite makeshift detention center garb, freezing in the cold desert night, for maybe a full minute as her mind came to terms.

She was lost, again, not even in time as she had done so years ago but in a completely different world. Lost and alone and tethered to this strange world with nothing but the strength of a promise. She may not be able to understand the language nor the people, but she had seen how different their world was—how different the people. She felt a quiver starting from her heart, spreading out to her limbs, to her throat, to her eyes, threatening to spill and break her already in tatters mind.

It would be very easy to end it all. She reminded herself. But suicide was, beyond anything else, an act of selfishness and barred from her by the strength of a promise. So she heaved the bag to her shoulder and started walking aimlessly into the night.

* * *

The next several weeks were… difficult to remember. A blur in her mind. A trance during which she could hardly recalled the details of.

Blue skies. Sand the color of burnt yellow. The wind, the moaning, howling, sometimes growling wind. Wind that filled in every second of maddening silence inside her head. Hours spent wandering aimlessly along the village labyrinthine paths. The scent of human sweat, sun and dirt, fetid and heady in the ever present heat. The sounds, the sighs, the chirrups of a hundred words in foreign tongue. The cool breath of the night within well-insulated stucco constructs.

On the first morning after being thrown out of the detention center, she stumbled (Was shown? Led to? Did it matter?) the local equivalent of Tokyo Center for the Homeless. The building, sandy in color and sanded by desert wind, stood at the back end of the village, with its back against the mountainside. Somber and burdened by the invisible weight of the combined destitution of all its denizens. Amidst the undulating crowd of unwashed and hungry strangers, she found her first home in this world.

Like its counterparts back in her hometown of Tokyo, this one also took in the lost, the lonely, and the destitute, all of which she fit to a tee. They took her to the back where a thickset madame sat filing enormous piles of documents, took the papers the detention center issued to her and proceeded to - she guessed - legalized her status as a village vagabond.

In the tail end of the building, behind a set of reinforced steel grates, they distributed food once per day to the clawing mass on the other side. No greens and nothing fresh either. Not in this place. Not this deep in the desert. The homeless all feasted upon shapeless morsels of dried … _something_…

In return for the food and the occasional spare patch of clean floor inside the center's cool confines to sleep upon, they each contributed a little something, whether it be small labors here and there, a helping hand presented to faces new and old, or the odds and ends collected from trash heaps and from the desert plains.

Her scars from weeks spent in the pits of the desert still fresh, Kagome stayed inside the walls of the village. While it had no doubt saved her life, the couple days in the hospital hadn't done a lot of good for her scalded feet and emaciated physics. She was too weak for any heavy labour and too lacking in the know-how to be trusted with any complicated works.

Still, there were things even a frail, foreign girl who spoke not a word of the local language could handle. They put her to the serving station, in the safe side of the grates that stood between the center handlers and the starving mass, in the afternoon, once every day, and when the trails of hungries trickled to an end, it was to the landfill she went.

Wastelands for those who lived in the desert did not strictly follow along the same definition as wastelands elsewhere. Here, where nature was harsh and its bounties in scarce supplies, the mantra to living a good life is waste not want not. It was upon this same principle that the villagers of Sunagakure (she only got to know this name on the third week of her residency in the Center for the Homeless) founded and operated the single landfill of the entire village.

Rather than a place in which people dumped things they no longer wanted nor needed, Suna Central Landfill was more of a… through station. Early in the morning, shipments of trashes, usually from houses of nobility or from nearby well-to-do civilian outposts, would come through the gate in tsunamic waves. They gave it an hour to sit and set and then the trash diggers came through in trickles. She was one of them, working her shift from late afternoon to early evening.

There were a lot of things to be found and used. Broken furnitures. Torn, and in some cases blood stained, garments. Old and rusty weapons, to be boiled down and remade into work tools. Spoiled food. Not safe enough for human consumption but great for other uses. Though food in general was rare, especially so in this land where hardship and the lack of everything, human sustenance included, was so easily found. It didn't take complete understanding of the language for her to see the village had fallen on hard times a long time ago, and there it had stayed, probably for longer than it should have.

The work was tedious in its simplicity. Single-minded repetitions in the thousands, in the hundred thousands. But as she was, Kagome welcomed its tediousness with open arms. It gave her purpose, filled in the empty space in her chest.

She couldn't quite remember how long she spent foraging the ebbs and flows of the trash mountain, but one day a little something changed.

In the cracks between cliffs of trash, she found a seed.

A single, shrivelled, dried up and quite obviously dead germ of lemon verbena.

Lemon Verbena, or lemon beebrush. Versatile plant. It had pretty flowers, can be eaten and its leaves and tops had medicinal uses. Its oil was also cultivated for various purposes. But…

…. what was the seed of a moderate climate shrub tree doing here? In a desert of all places? Not even taking into account the dreadful soil condition of this land, as sensitive to extreme weather conditions as it was, this would be the last place she expected to find a seed of its kind.

Sunagakure was infamous as a land mostly incapable of carrying any life forms, except for humans and their assorted pets, to terms. Water was scarce and the seeds of the rare plant life capable of surviving and bearing _fruits_, in its various meanings and interpretations, to maturity even rarer. A seed… of anything at all… should not even be here, in the place where discarded things gathered, in the first place. Dead or not.

In the end though, there really was no point in wondering the how, the why, and the if. It was there and she found it. Simple as that.

The events that followed mirrored Kagome's discovery of the lemon verbena seed in their simplicity and natural order of escalation. The effects of such events however, were anything but simple.

She came home when the sun went down. Putting her bag of finds of the day in the assigned slot, she made a beeline for the children chamber. When she came in, the children twittered in joy and excitement. They wrapped around her, chirping in the language universal to all the children in all the worlds, undeterred by the scents of garbage, sweat and toil emanating from her hair, her clothes, her body.

She sang along too. Meaningless words that partook in their childish happiness and chased away her own heartache. Then she took out the dead seed and made a wordless gesture of '_Look what I have for you here!_'

At once, they gathered around her, eyes wide and open mouth.

The seed of the lemon verbena lay in the palm of her grubby hand, tiny and black and lifeless. Then Kagome reached deep inside her, deeper and deeper until she touched upon the wellspring of strength that had always been with her, even in death. It came to her readily, easily, like a pet welcoming the return of its owner after a long absence. The rush of its power was heady, but she steadied her heart and focused upon the seed.

The most basic of a Miko's power. To heal. Brought to the next level. She can feel the soul of the seed, not dead, never dead, because souls never truly died, but dormant. She reached out, touched it, coaxed it slowly out of its slumber.

Before the wide eyes of the children, the seed stirred. Its coarse, black shell broke and from within the crack, a tiny green sprout appeared. It did not stop there however. The sprout grew, sprang one leaf, two, lengthened and branched off, until all of a sudden it was not a single seed in her hand but a rapidly growing plant.

The children oohed and ahhed but she put her free hand in front of her mouth in a silencing gesture. Then she stood up and led them out to the back door where there was a patch of earth between the door and the barbwire fence. Stepping out on the cold, cracked earth, she lowered herself on one knee.

The plant in her hand had grown a headful of leaves, then buds started springing from the tips of its soft, green branches. She dug a hole in the hard, barren dirt, lower the root of the tree into it, filled up the hole, then she stood up and watched as the last of her power inside the lemon verbena sapling bloomed into beautiful, luminous purple and white flowers.

She allowed herself a moment, savoring the sudden but much treasured moment of beauty. Surely this was a miracle. In a place such as this where new life more often than not was snuffed out before it could truly bloom. Out of all the foragers digging through the vast expanse of garbage in the landfill, it was she that happened upon that single dead seed.

She looked to the children and drank in the expressions of pure wonder that lighted up their faces. The sweetness of their innocence filled her heart. Long ago, before she had landed in this strange, new world, she had made a promise to a certain someone to never use her power for the sake of herself, not even when her life was at stake… especially when her life was at stake.

But here, now, in this village where blood mingled in the sand and the land itself soaked with sorrow, these orphaned children deserved a little miracle to brighten their day.

* * *

Of course, this was how they discovered her power. The ninja, their Kazekage, the entire village, and then, eventually, the entire ninja world.

But not all at first of course, and not so quickly. In a land where ordinary humans were capable of feats she had only previously seen in great and powerful demons, a little lemon tree growing over night in the backyard of the State-funded Home for the Poor and the Lost can be easy to overlook.

Gradually though, words started to spread. Children had no concept of secret... and possessed an endless willingness to share their wonder. Before long, she found herself pulled to aside by the Chief of the Center and the single medic unfortunate enough to pick the draw for monthly vagabond duty.

There were a lot of words exchanged, the majority of which flew right over her head, and a lot of wild gestures, pointing at her, then at the sapling they had uprooted and put in a bowl (still green and vibrant with life, even now when it was no longer feeding on her spiritual power, despite the hard, black soil encasing its roots), then right back at her.

"Nan Chakra nai." Said the chief, wagging his finger at her. She understood it a little. It meant 'no'. Out of all the languages in the world, yes and no were always the first two words picked up by all new learners, closely followed by _'hello'_, _'goodbye'_, _'I love you'_, and _'where's the toilet?'_. But no what? No chakra? What was chakra? And what did it have to do with her?

The medic shrugged and uttered two words. "Kekkai Genkai." Followed by a string of incomprehensible sounds that, when combined, gave the impression of _'I've seen weirder things. What are you getting your feathers all ruffled for?'_

Somewhere in the tail end of their conversation, they turned their gazes on her and she felt a shift… a sudden spike in awareness to the atmosphere. It was as if all of a sudden they were seeing her, really her, Kagome Higurashi of the Shikon no Tama, for the first time and not the frail, foreign, and aimless girl she had been these past weeks.

Warily, the medic growled. "Kazekage-sama…." His voice dropped an octave, growing hard and cold as steel all of a sudden.

"Nan chakra nai." The Center Chief repeated, softly and almost warily this time, and as he spoke, his gaze turned from her to the medic, who, in reply, snapped his attention back to his counterpart and let loose a string of hisses, sharp gaze flying between her and the Chief.

"Nan chakra nai." Repeated the Chief, his hands held in a placating gesture, and more and more his voice grew soft and slow, and then finally he put one hand in his pocket only to withdraw from it a single brown grain.

Rice. She would recognize it anyday. In his hand, the Chief held a single, full-germ rice grain. It was black and brown with disease and, like its predecessor the lemon verbena seed, had rotted to death a long time ago.

Gently, he took her hand, put the grain on her palm, and folded her fingers shut around it.

"Ueru." He commanded. The tension creased the corner of his eyes.

Realization came to Kagome like a lightning bolt. Of course, they wanted to make use of her power, wanted to test her, to see what she can do. The look on their faces was that of children eagerly looking forward to trying out a new toy.

Something rose in her chest. Not bitterness, but an overwhelming melancholy and a hint of trepidation. The power within her should never be used for the selfish gains of others. She had learned this lesson the hard way.

She pushed the Chief's hand back, returning the rice grain to him. Eyeing the medic in defiance, she showed him her bare throat.

"If it is death you wish to inflict upon me." She said in her own language. Only the second time ever that she attempted conversation since entering this world. "Then do to me as you wish. I am not afraid of you."

Her intent must have translated across languages… or at least showed in the tone of her voice and the nuances of her gestures, because right afterwards there was a hush. She saw the medic narrowing his eyes, his hands straying to his belt where rows of steel senbon the length of a full finger hung.

Before the medic made a move however, the Chief of the Homeless Center stopped him cold with one raised hand.

"Nan Chakra Nai." He repeated for a third time to his fellow villager, patient and soft, but unyielding.

For a second time, he forced the dead rice grain into her hand. This time however, he didn't stop here. His hands came to her face, gripped her chin. He steered her towards the open window through which she could see the afternoon sea of hungry vagabonds.

They were filthy, as usual, and hungry. They rose their arms and clamored in front of the steel grates where public welfare staffs handed out dried, tasteless rations in snatches. A veritable sea of clawing hands and faces mad and naked with hunger. In the midst of this sea, she saw the children for whom she made the lemon flower bloom.

There was a sound to her ears. A word uttered with such sincerity she didn't need to know the language to understand what it meant.

"Please." Said the Chief of the Sunagakure Center for the Homeless. She saw then that she had been wrong about him. With her head still faced away from the duo and for the second time since coming to this world, she reached deep inside for that shimmering wellspring within her and withdrew from it a breath, a light.

In her hand, the rice grain grew warmer, and warmer, and in a sudden spurt, bursted forth from within her tightly clenched fist. When she turned back, what she now held in one hand was a single stalk of rice, gold and gleaming with promises in the reflected afternoon sun, its branches laden with new grains.

The medic and the chief eyed her speechlessly as they contemplated the ramification of what they had just witnessed. That was no Mokuton jutsu as they had hypothesized before coming here. No. This was something more than that. A miracle surely. Because in all the history of Sunagakure and all the history of the entire ninja world, not even the most powerful of them could breathe life, true life and not the twisted imitation of it, into things already dead, not unless they paid the price with their own.

Not unless they were the Sage of Six Paths himself.

* * *

**End Chapter 1**

* * *

1/ I got sidetracked by yet another plot bunny. I'm not sorry (though you are still welcomed to kick me in the butt for it).

2/ When Kagome wetted her facemask with a handful of water in the beginning of the chapter: this is actually a real life desert survival technique. By wetting her face mask and wearing it, she prevents her body moisture from escaping through her nose and mouth and delay dehydration which is the number one cause of death for people who got lost in the desert.

3/ Not a lot of dialogues in this chapter. This is intentional and is designed to create a sense of mental isolation, mirroring Kagome's state of mind (lost in a strange new world, alone and unable to communicate). This will gradually change in subsequent chapters as Kagome learnt the language bit by bit and the story ventures into the POV of other characters (the 4th Kazekage for example, etc…)

4/ This story is basically my attempt to write a character that is strong without being a fighter, who forces change without the use of violence and who, by surrendering, actually wins the war. I have grown bored with the usual power trip protagonist type and is trying out new things. Maybe it will work. Maybe it won't. In the end, I simply want to have fun and enjoy what I write.

5/ There's going to be a lot of world building for Suna and the ninja world, politics, and characterization (my kink, baby!) in this story. And romance! Can't forget that. But it's not going to be the way most people expect it (my readers who came from Tis Femina should already know my propensity for screwing with my readers. Again, I am not sorry! At all!)


	2. Chapter 2: Of Fools and Gold

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Inuyasha nor Naruto. The only thing I own is the plot.

Beta: Michelle T.

**Chapter 2:**** Of Gold and Fools**

"_What glitters may not be gold; and even wolves may smile; and fools will be led by promises to their deaths."_

- Lauren Oliver -

* * *

He watched the girl through the one-way glass pane on the wall. She sat beside the barred windows, looking down on the humming village below. Sunlight streamed on her face, drawing curves of shadows and light on the incredibly young visage.

She couldn't have been more than eighteen, he thought. A child, only just starting to bud into something more. There were secret places still on the planes of her face, and its softness was at once repulsive and inviting to him .

"Yondaime Kazekage-sama." Someone called. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was from the sheer tone alone. There was always a definite lack of respect for his official title in Chiyo of the Gokyodai's voice. Just as well since the retired counselor was already his great grand mother's age and had seen him since he was a snot-nosed genin. He supposed it was difficult to allocate the appropriate reverence to one who would always be a little kid in her eyes.

"Is that the one?"

He nodded imperceptibly, eyes still focused on the girl on the other side of the glass pane. She dangled her legs from the edge of the chair, swinging them idly back and forth, her toes ghosting over the floor. The action made her appear even younger, almost childish.

The shinobi in him disapproved. He had many soldiers of the same age, kunoichi who faced twice the dangers their shinobi comrades did on the burden of their gender alone. In the world of ninja, such… innocence… invited disasters.

"Doesn't look like much," commented Chiyo.

"They never do," he said in reply as he turned away and faced Chiyo in full. " Kekkei Genkai are naturally deceiving in appearance. It's the quiet ones, the least visible ones that are always the most dangerous. A little child may pose the greatest threat. The burliest brute may be the most brittle link of a chain. Such differences are difficult to tell, but they are the ones that decide who will come out the victors on the battlefield. Has the council come to a decision?"

"Maybe… when I'm finally dead," was the answer. "Those bickering idiots always like to draw out on decisions too big for them to handle." Then she turned on him. "What are you doing waiting for them to make your decision for you? Are you not Kazekage, brat? I hope I do not need to tell you the true worth of this girl's power."

The true worth of her power? He glanced at the girl on the side of the glass pane. Yes. That was something he also wanted to know.

"That is… if the reports on what she can do hold true." He said simply.

_Mumei, Nameless, because even now we do not know what is her real name_. He thought to himself, silently going over what little they had managed to glean off the records and the people who had been spending time with the girl. _Discovered at the village gate exactly 59 days prior. At first we assumed her to be one of our lost citizens or a merchant who got lost on the Desert routes. She was taken in and given the requisite treatment for desert-stranded subjects, as per the village policy. Once her records and fingerprints were checked against the archives however, it turned out that she was not one of ours. She had no documents nor traces on her person indicative of her origin and even interrogation and surface mind probes yielded nothing as she did not speak our language. _

That was the first anomaly. All five of the great nations and even smaller nations within the cluster of continents known to this day spoke the same language. There were records of a time long past when people of different countries spoke different languages but the timeline must have been eons in the past. And in any case, to this day, such records were still considered myths at best.

Then came the second anomaly. _When checked with border patrol teams, we found no reports nor sightings of any entrants passed the border even resembling the subject_. Due to the open nature of the border surrounding Kaze no Kuni as well as the vast desert that made up the bulk of the nation terrain, border patrol teams all had at least one sensor in their roster and, when combined, the number and range of the sensors should always cover the entirety of the borderline, ensuring that the teams would always get prior notice on any unreported entries. Even in the case that someone… or something managed to slip past the patrol perimeter, they would have been discovered at one among the many mountain pass choke points surrounding the village. The fact that even the teams at these choke points couldn't pick up on her presence until Mumei was right in front of the village gate can only mean that…

_She had no chakra…_

Which would explain why she was able to slip past the net so easily as well as the leniency of the interrogation team. Without a full scan, they had thought her chakra only abnormally low and categorized her as a harmless civilian and not a potential spy sent by a rival village.

Then the third, final, and greatest anomaly of all. The girl's Kekkei Genkai.

Discovered by the staffs of the village Public Welfare Center approximately one week ago, the power to, as it appeared on the surface, induce growth in all plant life… even beyond death. Under this yet nameless Kekkei Genkai, a single plant life went from seed stage, through germination, growth, full maturity, into harvestable age within mere seconds. Types or species of the specific plant made no difference. Plants with life cycles spanning decades grew in the same amount of time as those that completed their life cycle within days.

"You are thinking too much." Chiyo cut his thoughts in the middle. "It's the downfall of us thinker types. We like to tinker too much with the theoretical side of jutsu creation and development." She said, referring to their roles as spearheads in Sunagakure jutsu R&D operations. Then she paused, casting a considering look at the still unaware girl. "Though I must admit, it is a most interesting Kekkei Genkai the likes of which I have never seen before. I can barely understand the mechanics of its function as it is. It is so easy to mistake it for the Mokuton Kekkei Genkai… but while there are similarities between the two, calling them the same would be an amateur's mistake and I would loath to make that kind of mistakes at my age." She put on gnarled finger and tapped against the glass pane. "The simplest way to describe it…"

She stopped again as she weighed her words.

"... is that it is an ability that negates all effects of the natural world upon a single plant-based organism and reroutes all its natural needs for sustenance to the source of Mumei's power."

"In other words…" He cut in, "the instance the ability is activated, the Kekkei Genkai user effectively becomes the earth, the air, the water, and the sun for the subject which she casted her power upon. Once it is activated, she becomes the sustenance and the sole source of life for that single subject. It is the power… of a tyrant… regardless of how benevolent it appears to be. " He left off there, not mentioning the fact that they had no idea whether this ability only worked on plant life… or more…

_If she can activate her power on a non-botanical lifeform… say…. a human, such ability then, regardless of its owner's lack of physical strength would make her a force to be reckoned with indeed._

Chiyo laughed, suddenly and loudly. "I suppose that is another way to describe it. Such grand words for something we know so little of… but… skepticism is a good trait for a Kazekage…"

"Assume all cautions when dealing with unknown abilities, presume nothing and leave nothing unquestioned. That has always been the policy of the jutsu R&D department… which you yourself laid the foundation of."

"That is true," the old poison master acquiesced… before getting off on another tangent. "The illogical idiosyncrasy of this Kekkei Genkai is the same as the Mokuton."

He tilted his head an almost imperceptible millimeter towards her, indicating his interest in Chiyo's personal observation of Mumei's Kekkei Genkai.

"Konoha teaches its children that the Mokuton is a combination of Earth and Water release brought to the next level. But this teaching is just that—children's tales woven to mystify and deify a power that should by all rights be brought onto the examination table and dissected for its irregularities. Anyone with a brain will see that when mixed together, water and earth would only create mud and not plant life. If only water and earth were sufficient to forest an entire country, we of the desert would have done the same to restore the fertility of our own soil long ago. The combination of only water and earth alone aren't enough to create the element known as wood. From this simple observation alone, there _**must **_be a third secret element involved."

He nodded, crossing his arms. He had thought the same despite never having shared his personal observation.

"Of course, there are various examples of advanced Kekkei Tota that combine three elements into one unique release, the Jiton release possessed by not one but two generations of Tsuchikage is a prime example, so this should come as no surprise to any jutsu masters with eyes to see and a brain between their ears. What is special about the Mokuton… is that unlike the Jiton which combines earth, wind, and fire, this third release is not an elemental release at all but is something that is unique to the Senju bloodline.

"_The third release is… a life release."_

Also correct. He nodded again, unfazed by Chiyo's revelation.

"Out of all Release type Kekkei Genkai, the Mokuton is unique in that it is the only release that deals with 'living matters'. Traditionally, release type Kekkei Genkai are manifestations of natural forces and phenomenons. Fire, earth, wind, water. None of these things carry life in and of themselves. Even advanced release Kekkei Genkai and Kekkei Tota are no exception to this one principal. The Mokuton, the Kekkei Genkai that releases the element of wood, living, breathing organism in themselves and not a force of nature, is the sole exception to this rule… up until now."

"Therefore, it is not unfair… to assume that this secret third element possessed by those of Senju blood is the key that grants the spark of life to the Mokuton." He finished Chiyo's statement, having come to the same conclusion as hers long ago.

"The mythical Sage arts possessed by only a rare handful of individuals within our world at any one time. Mokuton Hashirama Senju… was one such individual." Chiyo continued. "It is said that the key to mastering this art and by extension a higher form of chakra called Senchakra is to train one's body and mind until the point where one can touch, withstand, draw upon, and control the life energy of the natural world itself. This correlates with our theory that the Mokuton is a Kekkei Tota that combines not only earth and water but also the element of life energy taken from nature to create the living element of wood."

That went without saying.

"Based on the similarities we have observed so far between the Mokuton and this girl's Nameless Kekkei Genkai, I think it is safe to assume that they run on the same fuel. The element of life that can only the Sages can perceive. The key to their life-giving property must be this mythical life force of the natural world. That also explains why our sensors couldn't get a read even when she was using her power right in front of them… simply because they cannot perceive it."

"It is," he agreed.

"However, even the Mokuton has its limitations. Both of these Kekkei Genkai may have various similarities but there are several key differences. One…"

Chiyo held up one gnarled finger.

"Mokuton jutsus still need chakra to fuel their power. This girl has none. In the last week, even with the enormous number of plant life, crops and trees she had fostered, she had never once shown signs of fatigue due to the use of her power. Two…"

Came the second finger.

"The Mokuton requires acute understanding of chakra pathways, jutsu theories, and elaborate hand seals to execute jutsus of higher power and complexity levels. In so far, we have observed nothing of the sorts from Mumei. She has no chakra pathways, as impossible as that is, and the requirements for her to activate her power on anything seem to consist of mere physical touch and her own will. Three…"

She held three fingers in the air, drawing circular motions on the glass pane with them. There was a light to her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. Anticipation. Amusement. A quiet delight that hid something fierce underneath. The last time he had seen Chiyo of the Gokyoudai like this... that was back when he was a little genin kid who didn't know his own limitation and on sheer ignorance, made the mistake of challenging her to a ninja kumite to prove his 'worthiness as the future Kazekage'.

"The Mokuton is mostly limited to wood. There are accounts of the rare Mokuton users exerting their power on other plant life - shrubs, flowers, weeds and vines - but with these plants, the effect of their power are incredibly limited. We have never heard of Hashirama Senju himself resurrecting an entire field of dead crops and while he was alive he was the force behind Hi no Kuni thriving forestry and wood trade. Agriculture and other food related industries were chaperoned by the Akimichi instead. Historical documents also accounted for several crop failure seasons during Shodaime Hokage's reign, causing fluctuations and, in one case, a war-time food crisis. All of this should never have happened if Shodaime Hokage indeed had the power to resurrect and fuel the growth of _**any **_plant life such as Mumei demonstrated."

"And… last but not least." Said Chiyo, her attention fully focused upon the subject of their discussion. "The Mokuton does not posses the power to negate the effects of external factors such as sustenance, soil condition, or even the weather upon the trees it creates or nurtures… not pass the limits of the jutsu caster's chakra reservoir anyway. Among the countless trees created by Shodaime Hokage, only those that were planted upon fertile ground, i.e. that within the territory of Hi no Kuni itself, still survive to this day. Those that were created during his battles in other countries, over barren land or under harsh conditions not suitable for their species, ended up withering away the moment the chakra powering them ran out. As we have seen… this is not the case with Mumei's power. Even planted in barren soil and left out to harsh desert conditions, Mumei's plants thrive."

There was a hint of wonder and exasperation in her voice, as if she was annoyed at the fact that she couldn't quite explain the mechanics behind the nameless Kekkei Genkai. "It can be that we merely haven't found the limits to her power yet. Perhaps if the plants are far enough away from her or enough time has passed for whatever it is that nurtures them to run out… but in so far, the conditions with which we have tested her power have already far outstripped those of the Mokuton."

"From these observations alone…" She concluded. "... it is clear that we are dealing with a vastly superior Kekkei Genkai than the Mokuton possessed by the very founder of Konohagakure."

"... you don't sound particularly pleased about that." He said after a full minute of silence from the usually verbose master of puppetry. He knew what she must be thinking and was goading her into admitting the same.

"... Despite scolding you for overthinking things, I ended up prattling on and on." She said finally, smiling in self-depreciating humor.

"I do not mind. Even the prattling of one of the Gokyoudai is filled with wisdom."

"How cute." Chiyo gave a bark of laughter. "If you used that tongue on the council, they may be more open to going your way once in a while." Then she went quiet for a minute before continuing.

"We sure talked a lot without even looking at that little girl face to face. This is proof that we, you and I, members of the most influential and most powerful group of this entire village, are actually afraid."

He said nothing to Chiyo's statement, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her.

"The truth of the matter is, we are scared of her power. Any fools would take her Kekkei Genkai at face value and not understand the true ramification of its potentials. But we… because we can comprehend the intricacies behind such deceptively simple ability, that we are… actually… afraid of what we may find. The fact that you are standing here behind the wall of this room, behind all these containment seals..."

She made a gesture, pointing at the seal-laden wall before them.

"... is testament to your fear."

"...I prefer to call it being well prepared." He replied, matter-of-factly.

"Preparation hmm?" Chiyo countered. "I suppose that is true enough. But the fact that you have plastered the same jutsu negation seals on your body means that you intend to face the girl by yourself soon. You want to find things out and speak to her face to face, a task which may be carried out by any of our top rank interrogators. There really is no need for the Kazekage himself to undertake this, even less when the subject concerned is both a foreigner and the possessor of a Kekkei Genkai whose true power remains an unknown. It is simply too dangerous for the leader of the village to even be in the same room with such unknown quality… that is… unless there is something to be gained well worth the risk to the Kazekage himself as well as the village."

Correct again. Truly even in their old age, few things escaped the Gokyoudai's eyes.

"The fact that you plan to undertake this task by yourself… and most likely… yourself alone without even a single assistant..." She said, drawing her words out slowly, each with careful consideration. "... must mean that whatever it is you want to find out… or to do… you would like to keep well-guarded only to yourself and probably a few of the top ranking councilors. This need for secrecy must mean that… you have come to the same conclusion as I have about the source of this girl's power… and you do not want this information, if you ever manage to confirm it, to be spread out beyond your control. And… that is why you will not let anyone else handle Mumei but yourself. Am I correct?"

He went quiet for a while, before finally speaking up.

"In… the mere span of a week, and supplied with only a basket of dead seeds, a single person, this Mumei, was able to create enough food to feed our entire village for a year and… she did this without ever showing signs of taxing on herself, without disrupting her daily life and works." He can feel the old bitterness creeping up in his guts.

"I do not need to tell you what this means to a village such as ours. This single ability to create massive amount of food in so little time probably won't mean much to the other four great villages. However, for us desert dwelling folks alone… it would mean our life or death."

The desert that gave them their name. The desert that harbored them and protected them from invasion and hostile forces. The desert that bore them in its bosom, that forged them and made them in its image. They said desert dwelling folks, ninja of the Sand, were a hardy people who thrived even in the most unforgiving of environments, that a Suna nin would make success out of failure even at the cost of his life, regardless of the odds against him, that Suna nins just didn't know when to quit.

This was all true.

However, as much as the desert that made their home was their pride, it was also their bane. Despite what a lot of young blood ninja would like to think, a ninja village cannot be carried on by the trade of killing alone. In the first Kage summit held by the Shodai of all five great nations, the founding Kazekage himself acknowledged this fact by demanding compensation for Sunagakure not in the form of money, bloodline, or weapons, but in the form of fertile land capable of bearing and sustaining life.

This barren homeland, this bane that they would never be able to escape, over the years had proven to be extremely costly on the business of running a ninja village.

For every ninja Suna produced, it had to pay triple, sometimes quadruple the cost other villages did. Necessities other villages took for granted had to be imported at cut-throat prices from other countries. Food had to be bought from the neighboring Ta no Kuni. Water had to be tubed underground from Amegakure. Other necessities were also no exception. This land simply had next to no production value and simply could not compete with other nations. Even gold trading afforded by his own Gold Dust release could barely hold the economy together.

It was for this simple reason that Sunagakure had always had to fight for its existence and its fragile economy from the day of its creation.

And now… literally from nowhere this little slip of a girl appeared and she alone possessed the single Kekkei Genkai capable of erasing the unfair disadvantage that had dogged the village from its founding days, effectively reversing a situation that had persisted for more than a hundred years.

"She is…" he started, "... or will become… incredibly valuable to us very soon. Those very same councilors that are arguing about what to do with her will soon see the worth of Mumei's power… just as you and I did." He didn't stop there. "They will then go one more step. Blinded by the benefits created by her power, they will not see beneath Mumei's power. They will not be able to comprehend the true depth of what she is capable of."

"Oh ho… by those words I suppose you have your own guesses on what this Kekkei Genkai really is. Let's hear it then."

He paused momentarily, carefully weighing his words. "I believe that despite all our reasoning and hypotheses, we are both wrong about the true nature of Mumei's power." He said finally. His words immediately silence Chiyo.

"The only reason we are even discussing the mechanics of something that has so far defied all known rules of shinobi arts and blood limits, is because of its similarity with Shodaime Hokage's Mokuton. In the face of something so foreign… so bizarre that it is almost impossible to grasp… of course we latched onto the single familiarity we can see… which is its effect upon plant life. Howover, the truth of the matter is that we know too little for any of our theories to actually hold a modicum of truth in them."

His eyes were riveted onto the girl on the other side of the glass pane.

"Why is it that she is alive in the first place? A person who has no chakra and no pathways in their body should not even be able to live. Even the weakest of civilians have rudimentary pathways imbedded in their bodies. Even shinobis with crippled chakra systems, such as the Leaf's Green Beast, have _some_ amount of chakra in their bodies. Even newborns possess the blueprint of chakra pathways that will grow and mature with time. But Mumei… simply has none. She is a ghost to our senses, but she is also flesh and blood. Her mere existence defies our natural laws."

He touched the part of his chest right under the collarbone where the tip of a seal was visible.

"For all I know, these may be useless against her, but because I simply do not know for sure, this is the best I can come up with. What is it that she uses to fuel her ability? Is it truly this mythical life force of the world that only the Sages are capable of perceiving? But… we all know that Sage training takes decades to master even for the luminaries of our world... and we have all heard of the countless failures that ended in death. I have also heard rumors of a clan in a nameless country capable of passively absorbing the energy in the environment around them. This ability however, seems to force them into uncontrollable blood rages at times during which they can kill countless of their own clansmen. From these accounts, we can see that life energy is not the harmless and benevolent force of life as its name may suggest. In fact, from all existing records, it appears to be an incredibly chaotic and destructive force. To be honest, we should not even be surprised. After all, we of the desert know better than anyone that nature is an unforgiving mistress. Why then should her life blood be any less ferocious?"

He paused, watching Chiyo's face from the corner of his eyes. No surprise as far as he can see. Jutsu developers really did think alike.

"But if that is the case… then… what is it that enables Mumei to harness such volatile force of nature? What stops her from being consumed by the source of her power itself? Are we to believe this is also part of her Kekkei Genkai? Is that why she is still alive despite not having chakra in her body? Because this mysterious life energy effectively replaces chakra for her? A naturally occurring savant who lives off of the most dangerous kind of energy in the ninja world… if that is the truth… then there is no way what we have seen is the full extent of her powers…The very foundation is already vastly different from our own. I believe… that we have both been wrong and that Mumei's nameless Kekkei Genkai is something else entirely and not what it appears to be."

That thought… filled him with trepidation.

"Of course, the council will not see it as such," said Chiyo, continuing his line of reasoning. "Once the effect of her plant growth inducing power finally sinks in, they will be too afraid of losing what is right in front of their eyes to experiment and find out the truth. By that time, our own village, our own people will have already become wholly dependant on the '_**sustenance**_' she provides."

She stopped there, eyes widened as if she had just realized something, then laughed .

"A tyrant of life indeed," said Chiyo finally. "Though I suppose that is why you will let no one else but yourself handle her. You would like to affirm her worth and… depending on what you see in that little girl… decide to either destroy her before her tyrant's power can take root or shackles her to our village and force her to live the rest of her life for the good of Sunagakure."

He said nothing in response, simply put his hand on the door.

_This bloodline,_ he thought, _is too useful to go to waste. In the desert where things are scarce, any and everything serves a purpose. Mumei is no different. Even if her power proves too volatile, he will not kill her. _

The seals reacted to his chakra and together, slowly at first, then faster, they moved, whirled.

The ninja world was no stranger to the many ways with which to forcefully extract a valuable bloodline limit from its original owner. The fact that Mumei was a girl of malleable, fertile age and a lone foreigner in a land as alien to her as she was to it only gave him more options with which to choose from. The thought left a sour note in his mind, after all he himself had a daughter near her age, but he had done worse things for his village… in the name of his village. The suffering of one person could never amount to the suffering of an entire people. The happiness of one person could never compare to the happiness of an entire nation.

This was but a trifle in the grand scheme of things.

With little click-clacks, one by one, the containment seals engraved into the door untangled themselves, unlocking the many layers of stone gates that led to the chamber where Mumei was kept.

He gazed inside and saw her looking back.

* * *

**End Chapter 2**

* * *

1. I'm hoping to turn out the third chapter in one week. I already have near 200 words laid out and have made a promise to restrict myself to short chapters (3-5k words) at a time since long chapters have the tendency to make writing really slow (hint: Tis Femina speed)

2. This story will be romance. Any guesses?

3. Don't jump to conclusions. Any readers who are familiar with my work will know that I love nothing more than screwing with my reader's head (Nope! Not sorry!)

4. I also hate simpleton characterization or one-dimensional characters. People that you think will be the villains maybe something else entirely and people who you think you can trust may end up stabbing you in the back. That said though, what do you think of the characterization of 4th Kazekage and Chiyo in this chapter (they are partly built on the info that they were both jutsu developers - Chiyo with her kinjutsu and the 4th Kazekage's creation of new jutsu being credited by one of the Suna councilor as one major factor in keeping the village economy from sinking - thus they both have very analytic and incredibly logical mindset. They are also in the position of power and under the pressure of leadership so they do not lack for ruthlessness either)

5. Here are the ages of the people in this story since the beginning, just for reference:

Kagome: 17-18 years old

4th Kazekage (aka Gaara's dad): 38 years old (In Canon, he died around 40 years old)

Gaara: 10 years old

Kankuro: 14-15 years old

Temari: 15-16 years old

Naruto (and his year mates): 10 years old

Chiyo: 67-68 years old (still advising during 4th Kazekage's reign as stated in canon through the resurrected Kazekage's flashback)

That should also give you an idea on the timeline we will work with. Kagome's presence in Suna will, of course, has an impact on the ninja world, the first of which is the strengthening of Suna (since she alone can pretty much feed the entire village with almost zero cost), thus making them less desperate and a lot less likely to enter into a risky alliance with Orochimaru.


	3. Chapter 3: Open and Closed

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Naruto. The only thing I own is the plot.

Beta: Michelle T.

**Chapter 3:**** Open and Closed**

'_Overcome the angry by non-anger; overcome the wicked by goodness; overcome the miser by generosity; overcome the liar by truth'_

- Buddha Dhammapada -

* * *

The newcomer… reeked of old blood.

Blood and sand and heat and the twang of explosive powder and maybe the sharp edge of something metal… maybe that little thing that peeked out from the collar of his shirt. It was a familiar scent, a scent she knew well from years of travel across a war torn Feudal era. The very same scent that hung like an invisible shroud around the many human warlords they crossed path with on their journey… and… occasionally, a few demons too. In the first half year of her journey, this incredibly distinct scent would often drive her to the edge of the road where she promptly proceed to reintroduce whatever she had eaten back to the world.

She was an undeniable city girl in a world where the concept of civilized and squeaky clean metropolitans didn't even exist. And... while she wasn't shy of this fact, the time it took to acclimatize her sensitivity to a historically appropriate level had always been something of a sore point for her. (No, Inuyasha, I do not have to get over it! You stink! Go wash!)

A half year it took. Afterwards, the scent itself became a sign of things that required her utmost attention, a premonition that men who were familiar with swords and the trade of death dealing were close in its wake. This time however, it was a mere ghost on the edge of her senses, most likely a result of her growing power, but it was there nonetheless and she would be a fool to ignore what it usually entailed. So the moment the newcomer entered, he had her full attention.

She sat up a little straighter in her chair and watched him as he came in. The door closed and locked behind him. It didn't really have to. She didn't know what kind of magic these people wielded but for as long as she had been in here, regardless of whether the door was open or not, the only thing she could see beyond them was darkness.

He sat down across from her on a chair, a table between them, paper, pen brush and ink on it. His face was absolutely blank off emotions except for the faintest hint of age on it.

He said something then as he reached for the pen brush. His voice was soft and slow, almost gentle, a clear contrast with the ghostly stink that hung around him. He held out the other hand and slowly brought it across.

When he finally touched her on the wrist with his fingers, he paused and in the ensuing silence seemed to be waiting for her recoil or to yell out some protests. He got none of those reactions however.

"Which one is the real you?" She murmured to herself, but even if he did pick up on it, he wouldn't have understood anyway. This language thing was such a bother. If she were to spend the rest of her life here, she must learn this language "Is it your scent? Or your voice? I cannot tell.". For now, her curiosity was greater than her wariness so she stayed still. She saw something in the newcomer's face then, an expression whose meaning she wasn't quite sure of. For a split second there, it felt as though he was judging her by her lack of protest and the judgement… might not have been in her favor.

He took her wrist fully into his hand, turned it around so that it was palm-up. His other hand dipped the pen brush into the ink fountain to his right and, with a swirl, he began drawing odd symbols on the skin of her palm.

"Ofuda?" She asked, not really expecting an answer. Much to her surprise, he stopped his brush stroke for a moment to utter a single word "Fuin."

She blinked. There was something familiar in that foreign word.

But before she could give it much thought, the tickling of wet pen brush against her palm had already resumed. Within mere minutes, he - in the place of a name she dubbed him Mr. Poker Face - had finished doodling whatever it was on her hand.

He turned it around a few times, inspecting his handy work, before settling the brush down to a side and…

_Can you hear me?_

The sheer shock of finally hearing something comprehensible to her ears for the first time in many many weeks jolted through her like electric. She almost shot up right from the chair but the man - Mr. Poker Face she reminded herself - 's grip on her hand stopped her dead in her track.

_Going by that reaction I would say that you do._

Again, the voice. She studied him intently. Never once did he open his mouth. And the voice inside her head sounded more like…

_It is a simple communication technique reserved for those with severe disabilities_. Well that was definitely not a man's voice. That was her momma's voice! _It transfers my thoughts directly into your mind and speaks to you using your own language, your own memory._

The voice in her head fluctuated from Souta's, then Grandpa's, then her friend's voice.

_It's the only way we can communicate with you. There is no one out there who speaks your tongue. It is only one-way, however._

Well… that… blew. For a minute there, she was hoping it would be a two way deal. The past several months had been… tough.

"I suppose if that's the best at the moment, I should not complain." She said, more to herself than to him, before attempting to crack a smile. She was determined to be positive about things. She was done with moping. Her attempt elicited a non-plus look out of Mr. Poker Face.

_Because I cannot hear your answers, listen closely. You know how to say yes and no in our language do you not?_

"_Yes_" She said in reply. Based on the reactions she still got these past weeks from various people, her pronunciation needed work.

_That will do. Now…_

The grip holding her tightened.

_Do you know where you are?_

"No." There was a lot more she wanted to say but she had no words with which to say it.

_You are in… the Village Hidden in The Sand. What are you?_

The suddenness of that question seemed to shock her as much as it did him, if that slightest tightening of his jawline was anything to go by. Despite fully knowing that she couldn't answer anything other basic yes or no question, he had asked a question of what. What and not who.

_Excuse me._ He followed up. His face had gone perfectly blank once again. _I forgot myself. Never you mind that question._

Oh, but she did mind. Where did that come from? And it definitely was something Kagome should mind. Questions like that didn't come from nothing. It definitely sounded like Mr. Poker Face cared a great deal about that. Was that a slip of the tongue? Mind?

Frowning, she tugged on their conjoined hands, giving them a look. Fuin, he said. Was it the same with her Ofuda? The warding of demonic things? Something to do with sealing or warding? A technique to transfer one's thoughts to another's mind. Was his curiosity so high that it slipped through… whatever this was?

Was it even curiosity at all?

He was saying something but she kept tuning him out, looking over his shoulder at the staunchly closed door behind him.

It wasn't curiosity, wasn't it? It was wariness. Fear of the unknown. She wasn't exactly surprised. The common denizens of the Sengoku Jidai wouldn't have reacted nearly as calmly to what appeared as unknown magic as these desert folks did. She had seen what the warriors of these people could do. Small trips passed the outskirts of the training area reserved for warriors of the village. Only glimpses from afar, but she had seen them none the less. She had thought displaying her own little spark wouldn't cause such commotion but judging from all the attention (and dead seeds!) she was getting in the past week, perhaps what she could do was not strictly among their capabilities.

Kagome decided then that she wasn't going to let that question go unanswered. But how to go about voicing something she had no word for? How did Miko translate into the Sand people's language?

"Ahh… uh…" She started with pointing, first at the weird 'Fuin' doodling on her palm - hidden by Mr. Poker Face's grip but there none the less—then at herself. He gave her a look.

_What are you trying to say?_

She pointed again, at the doodle then at herself, swirling her finger once.

_You are… a seal master?_ There was a definite shift of expression on his face, but it was so subtle she couldn't tell what it might mean. She pouted, frowned, and shook her head for good measure.

The duties of a miko did actually entail the creation of ofuda and sutras yes, but… whatever a seal master was, she was sure it wasn't a miko. Ofuda scripting was only a small part of a miko's responsibilities. Priesthood during the Sengoku Jidai was symbolized by the usual Shinpu Ofuda or Omamori though and Miko, when one got down to it, was also a member of the priesthood. She was hoping he would make the connection eventually.

_No?_ Mr. Poker Face went quiet as she kept on her pointing game and their one-sided conversation transformed into an impromptu session of Taboo. It took several more attempts before he hit the jackpot.

_Tag maker? Scribe?... Priest?_

She stopped and shot him an encouraging look.

_Priestess? You are a priestess?_

Not strictly. The definition of a Miko was… well. But they weren't likely to progress any further from there, so she gave a definitive nod (thank god nodding and shaking heads still meant the same thing here as they did in her past world).

… _Interesting_. He said… in the voice of her eighth grade math teacher, and regarded her coolly. _But that is neither here nor there. Priestess-san… _

"Miko" Stated Kagome, pointing to herself then to the doodle again.

… _Miko-san_. He didn't so much as twitch at her request… which she kind of was expecting him to. More and more he was reminding her of a certain dog demon lord before they actually managed to dethaw him from his prior freezing disposition.

_For the last…._

"No" She said loudly in the Sand people's language as he started speaking to her mind again, putting one finger right in front of his lips for good measure. Something flickered on his face and she thought she might have seen the slightest stiffening of his shoulders. Mr. Poker Face was no doubt a warrior if his 'scent' was anything to go by, but Kagome herself had faced down great demon lords who can level entire mountains with just a swing of their swords. This was the first real interaction she had ever had with another human being in this world, and by the gods she was going to do this the right way!

"Miko." She pointed at herself then turned her finger at him. "Miko…" And again.

He seemed to get it and for the first time she saw something like the slightest ghost of irritation zipping past his face. She might be wrong though but years of travelling with His Highness The Great Dog Demon Lord Sesshomaru had taught her to trust her guts about these things.

… _There really is not much time. I'm sure you would like to rest…._

"No" She said again, a little louder this time, a little firmer, tugged his hand and repeated her pointing. Her effort was rewarded with another blank, drawn out look, before finally…

_...The Shadow of the Wind. I am the Shadow of the Wind. _He repeated the title in his own language. Kahzair Kahgair?

Now that was a melodramatic title. Shadow of the Wind? How did that even happen? Could the wind actually cast shadows? That sounded a bit like an oxymoron phrase. Was she hearing things right or did Mr. Poker Face's doodle magic have a translation glitch? These thoughts zipped through her mind as she repeated the name.

"Shadow of the… Wind?" It sounded weird rolling out of her tongue. It sounded… boastful… in an incredibly awkward way. It sounded like it would fit right in with the many laughably egotistical MMORPG names Souta and his school pals usually made up for their guides and city raids. Lord_of_the_Universe_1166. Dark_Assassin_King_123. Lord_Fancy_McPants. That kind of names.

Some of her amusement must have shown because his eyes narrowed imperceptibly, as though hissing 'what is so amusing?' at her. She cast her gaze down to her feet like a naughty schoolgirl caught red-handed in the midst of mischief making, then back up. She cleared her throat in an effort to keep the smile off her face before pressing on.

"Miko. Kagome Higurashi." She pointed at herself - "_Shadow of the Wind_… tatada!" - then at him.

This time, it seemed Mr. Poker Face wasn't going to bother with protesting anymore.

…_. Satoosa. My name... is Satoosa... _

She could almost hear the put-upon tone even through his mind-voice, but she wasn't going to let that deter her. Beaming brightly, she bowed down, chiming.

"Nice to meet you Shadow of the Wind Satoosa-san."

In return, he gave the tiniest of nod, before pressing on.

_You have been the talk of town for the last week, Miko-san. _

She noted the use of her title and not her name but decided not to push this time.

_With all the things you have been doing, our people are grateful. They have also been asking questions. You are… after all… an unmistakable foreigner._ He said. _Since you can't say anything other than yes or no, I'm going to read out a list of countries. Say yes when you hear the name of your home._

He started off with a bunch of bizarre names then, and every time he pronounced each of them, she responded with dejected silence. When it got to name number eight (or was that nine? She was starting to lose track), she shook her head and said "No" out loud.

He regarded her for a moment, then…

_How far away is your home, Miko-san? _

She spread her hands in response, wide, wider, like a bird spreading its wings to take flight. He seemed to get it.

_Do you think…_ He said, the blankness of his face engulfed in… something… something sharp and full of thorns… _that you can ever find your way back home, Miko-san? _

"No." She murmured. What she meant was _Never_. Not in this lifetime anyway. The phantom pain was familiar, but if she still let it get to her at this point in time she would never have gotten out of that desert alive. More than the pain of separation, her will to persevere and to fulfill her promise endured.

Mr. Poker Face… Shadow of the Wind Satoosa-san... seemed to think it over for a moment, his eyes glued to her face. She knew the question he didn't ask. How did she get here?

"I…" She said, utilizing the few Sand people's words she had been snatching up in the last few days. The pronunciation still felt strange on her tongue, the way foreign things did. The words were slippery, unsure, and at any moment she felt they were going to slid free from her grasp.

"I…" She tried again, licking her dry lips. "... Lost…" That word was a new one. She had caught up on that by accident when the madame at the Homeless Shelter was trying to convey to her that one of the orphaned children had ran off to where he shouldn't, lost and stranded from his pack.

"I… lost…." That was her best effort.

_You are lost… from your home. _

It wasn't quite a question but she nodded yes anyway.

_Are there anyone else from your homeland who are also… lost?_ He followed up. The voice he used was a mix of momma's and grandpa's voice. They didn't quite fit his face. _Are there anyone out there looking for you... Miko-san?_

"No…" She muttered, quiet as a mouse.

_I see…_ He replied. _Then, would you like to start a new life here.. with us, Miko-san? You have made many of my people very happy. If you have no other place to go, let this be your new home instead. Ours is not as prosperous or beautiful a village as many others are, but we are grateful for what you have done for us and we can be very generous in our gratefulness. You will be provided for, taken care of. _

Kagome smiled sadly. There really was no need for him to 'sweeten the pot' for her. Her choice was already made a week ago, when she first touched that dead rice seed and made it bloom. The expression of the people's face and the shame that followed hot on its wake as she realized how far she had withdrawn into herself, to the point that she had subconsciously but also purposefully shy away from the suffering of others. A selfish reaction.

There was never a lack of suffering in this world, never a lack of despair and cruelty. It was a miko's duty to assuage these pains for as long as she lived. It was a miko's duty to live the entirety of her life selflessly, and to dispense with kindness without reservation.

"... Yes…." She said, whispering the word as if it held everything of her inside. In a way, it did. The past she left behind was barred from her forever. The way forward there was only one. "...Yes…"

"I…." another word she had learnt very early on though she had never used it before. "... want…" It felt heavy on her tongue, hot and heady and by saying it at last, for the first time, she felt she had finally committed. "I… want…"

Without needing to hear another word, he seemed to get it.

_Very well, I hereby welcome you as one of our own, Miko-san._ He said simply, without even a flicker of emotion on his face. He didn't look happy nor did he look… unhappy. For some reason, she felt as though this was a man whose sadness would be concealed in the blankness of his face and within its confines he would drown slowly, silently. Much like another she had known. His face was empty and the voice he used was one among the cacophony made up of the thousand voices of strangers she had long since forgotten. Faceless, nameless. He sounded as if he would have said the same thing regardless of whether she said yes or no. He put his other hand into his pocket then and withdrew from it something that glittered in the weak sunlight that streamed from the single window.

A bracelet made of pure gold, serrated in the middle and inscribed with words she could not understand. He presented it to her, holding it so that the straps hang limply over her delicate wrist.

She shot him a look. What is it?

_A gift_. He replied. _To thank you for what you have done for my people._

That was a lie. She knew it as surely as she could hear the faint scent of old blood drifting about him. The thanking part might not be complete hogwash but that pretty and expensive looking bracelet was more than it seemed. She eyed the unintelligible words etched onto its sides. They looked a little like the doodle he drew on her palm. Were they the same kind? Only with different functions? She had had experience with cursed jewelries before, her being the giver and enforcer of one herself, and by sheer experience, such… 'gift'... was better off as far away from her as it could.

She recoiled ever so lightly.

_What's wrong?_ He asked. _Don't you like it?_ His mind voice was a whisper and in the ensuing silence, his hand over her wrist seemed to grow in weight as it pressed down. She could feel the calluses on his fingers. The kind that came from weapon handling, same as Miroku and Inuyasha's. There was a steel-like firmness to the grip that belied its owner's perfectly calm and collected exterior.

Then it came to her all at once. The wariness of his words. The blankness of his face. This bracelet.

These people were afraid of her, of her power. They coveted its usefulness and was thankful for what she did for them, but they… or at the very least, their leaders… were wary of her all the same, and in their wariness, they did what countless others tried to do.

They seeked to control the source.

If she guessed correctly, which she bet she did. This bracelet with all that 'Fuin' inscribed onto them served that single purpose.

_You don't like it_. Satoosa's voice in her head cut her thoughts in the middle. _If you want…_ He continued. His voice was so very soft now, as though he was speaking to a child_… I can make it different._ As he said this, the gold shifted in his hand, changing shapes. The serrated edge disappeared and the simple bangle-like shape thinned and curved into pretty vines and flowers.

In response, she bowed her head, frowning. The fact that her power frightened others saddened her, but she saw no way with which it could be averted. It was in human's nature to fear things they had no knowledge of. The fear of the unknown was deep in their blood, in their bones. But here, now, there was something she could do.

She turned up, smiling tentatively at Mr. Poker Face.

"No" She said and saw the slightest tightening of his jaws. If she so much as blinked… or if she didn't have years of cumulated experience in dealing with taciturn dog demons, she would have missed it. She lifted her wrist invitingly as she eyed their intertwined hands.

She could feel the faint thrum of magic and, while it was no no doubt a different type of what she was used to, there was enough similarity for her to work with. So she gathered herself, reached out… and passed through the weird doodle… into Mr. Poker Face.

As she thought, the wariness, the suspicion, the skepticism was there. So was hate, bitterness, a lust for violence, jealousy, greed, wrath, guilt, pride. They fluttered around her like knives in the dark, but she slipped past them. These were the crust, the thorny outer layer that enveloped every single human being. She touched upon the core then and there she found other things.

Devotion. Loyalty. Patience. An absolutely indomitable will to protect those he held dear. Perseverance. A thirst for knowledge.

...Love...

In the darkness of his heart, they shone like the moon and the stars... and for the briefest moment she saw the flashing images of a woman with the gentlest of smiles and little children who resembled Mr. Poker Face too much to simply be acquaintances or children of his relatives.

Then all of a sudden she was sprawled out and pinned to the floor. The table upended, the chairs toppled, the ink dish clattered noisily next to her head and the spatters of ink sprinkled the floor and her face. Her arm twisted painfully, almost breaking in his grip, and there was a hand around her throat, squeezing, choking.

She stayed perfectly calm as she looked up into Satoosa's murderous visage. The first time ever he showed such clear emotion in her presence. Her hand where the doodle was drawn on was trapped tight in his grip. She reached out for a second time, but this time, as she slipped past the Fuin, she grasped hold of what was on the other side and pulled.

The magic of these people was strange. When it was under Mr. Poker Face's control, it functioned differently. She might be able to turn and steer it, but in her hands, it transferred something different. Feelings, sensations, emotions insteads of words, dialogue, concepts.

But it was all she needed.

She drew him in, trapped him. She opened herself. She had faced great warriors and demon lords alike and not cowered in the face of their might. She had faced them standing and had not lost herself in the process. She had long since past the fear of mortal pains and she had no shame in the nakedness of her heart.

The first thing she showed him was that she knew. She knew of their fear, of their desire, of their intention, and of what the bracelet meant.

The grip around her throat tightened, squeezed. She gasped, feeling the air being forced out of her. Mr. Poker Face's eyes above her were pinpricks of black and they burned with provoked fear, rage, and loathing.

But she didn't relent. This pain was but an old friend.

"It's… alright, Satoosa-san." She said weakly in her own language, gasping wetly in between the words. The magic she commandeered transferred the emotions - understanding, sympathy, acceptance - across. They were wordless but understood all the same. "I do not… mind." She can see dark spots appearing in her vision and she knew the pain was forcing tears from her eyes. "I… understand. It's alright. It's… not your fault. I know… you are scared."

A quiet but vast compassion ingrained in her since birth and further strengthened with the years.

"I will… wear the bracelet… if it sets your heart at ease." She said through the pain-filled haze, trusting fully that the revised Fuin was translating her will across the language barrier. She showed him her willingness and her desire to help the people then but the grip on her throat still did not loosen. He was growling something through gritted teeth but the Fuin was no longer translating from his end.

She blinked, realizing finally that he was perfectly capable and fully intending on killing her right there. The thought filled her with a deep sadness. She wanted to live, but she was no longer afraid of death. She did not fight even once. Her arms lie pinned and limp under his weight. She may harbor the full power of the Shikon in her soul but her body was just as frail as any young mortal woman. Even if she were to fight, against someone like him, someone who seemed to have been condensed from iron, whose hardness was carved right into his eyes, his face, and who wore the lingering scent of old blood and steel like his own skin, it would probably be futile anyway.

She reached out for a third time then, drew him in even deeper and immersed him with something else, her gratitude. Raw and honest and unfiltered and tinged with the shame of the realization of her own momentary selfishness.

"Thank you…" She whispered, too weak now for anything louder, but this close and with the Fuin still going strong, he heard anyway. "... for taking me in. Thank you… for giving me a home. Thank you… for feeding me." She smiled brightly through the tears and the pain and the sadness, looking him in the eye without fear or remorse. "Thank you… for accompanying me. Thank you… for giving me a chance. Thank you… for letting me help."

Her breath was quickly becoming painful and the darkness started creeping up in her slowly blurring vision.

"Thank you. Thank you… for having me."

She swam, floated in a haze, tethering precariously upon the ledge of an endless abyss, feeling the pressure slowly pulling her over. Then all of a sudden it ceased and an incredible weight was lifted from her as the hand on her throat disappeared.

It took her six minutes to regain her breath, two more for her vision to return, and another full five minutes for the strength to start seeping back into her limbs. When she could finally turn her head around, she saw him leaning against the wall looking down at her.

He was shaking badly and he had his left arm holding his right as if he was injured. His face was pale, bloodless. The blankness he wore for the entirety of their 'conversation' was gone, shattered, and in their absence she saw pure, unmasked, and unadulterated shock.

* * *

**End Chapter 3**

* * *

1. Don't jump to conclusion. I can't repeat this enough. Already I have a couple people accusing me of stuffs which… are kinda hilarious. To anyone who know my writing, it is never simple and things are never as they first appear with me.

2. The Kazekage's name in this chapter - Satoosa - is as close as it gets to a canon name. There have been several discussions and debates on the internet regarding his name when Naruto fans found out that in the Naruto trading card game he was given a non-canon name: Satoosa or Sasoosa. This turned out to be a combination of misprinting and mislabeling as Satoosa here is actually the Japanese Sato-Osa which literally means Village Head and is actually the rank/type of his card rather than his name (it was printed in the place of his name or next to it though, which is where the confusion stemmed from). I was searching for inspiration of a name for him, happened upon this, and thought 'Well, why not? It does sound pretty ok and there's a story behind it. That's already better than my other options'. If you google satoosa kazekage, his cards will turn up in the image section.

As for the pronunciation of Satoosa in this chapter/story, it can either be pronounced Sato-Ohsa or Satoooosa. I'm good with both.

3. I really like writing the interactions between the Kazekage and Kagome in this chapter. A lot of nuances and subtexts, a lot of subtle, precise writing. The things I like to play with most as a writer. The characterization of both characters are also something that need a lot of work, attention, and delicate their interactions you can clearly see the people they are. Do let me know what you think of their interactions! Also, what do you think of the 'end' and 'near the end' of this chapter? For a few readers, it will be too much I think. But then again, I have never shied away from the extremes in my writing. What do you think of Kagome in this chapter? And what do you think of the 4th Kazekage in this chapter?

4. I'm a bit surprised at some reader's reservation of the 4th Kazekage. Well.. not really surprised but, I have always thought he was underrepresented in the original series. Fans tend to dismiss him as an abusive, neglectful father who wasn't worth squat in terms of combat because he was killed by Orochimaru. I guess people are prone to simple, one-dimensional thinking when it comes to frontier characters who don't get much screentime and not even a name like him. Me personally I was intrigued when I was first read about him. My instincts as a writer told me that there was more to this character and in the hands of a good writer, he will evolve into a multi-layered, complex characters… the way people (parents) are in real life. I was proven correct when he was resurrected in the ninja war arc (Zombie Kage section). He was not actually without love for his children, Gaara specifically, as fans first thought he was. He loved them but he was also a leader of a military village and perfectly human when it comes to failing things like parenting (I guess for younger readers this will not be easily comprehended, but my writing tends to be for the more mature crowd for the simple reason that I'm… well… not actually that young. And… not-young people understand very deeply how easy it is to screw up at being good parents).

Another thing I like about writing fanfiction: the ability to play and develop characters with lots of latent potential but came and went without fanfare in canon for the simple reason that the pages are limited.

5. I got lots of guesses in the romance aspect of the story. Well, none of them are a hundred percent correct I can tell you that (hahahahahahahahahahahahaha). The answer is so close yet so far and so many of you just don't realize that it's dangling right in front of your face (I'm a big tease I know. My beta complained to me about that. Didn't you Michelle? I really tickled your sensitivities and romantic sensibilities with that 5K thing huh? Also, if anyone can guess what 5K means I will share the rough draft with that person and honestly answer 3 of their questions. No teasing. No lying to preserve the story. No hinting. No manipulating words to make you assume wrongly. Not only the rough draft of From the Garden of Gods but any story in my ff account. Any of them! Honest to god!)


	4. Chapter 4: Sugar and Secrets

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Naruto. The only thing I own is the plot.

Beta: Michelle T.

**Chapter 4:**** Sugar and Secrets**

* * *

He left her shivering on the floor, in her own sweat and tears, closed the door behind him and didn't look back.

A couple more minutes, during which her breath grew less and less painful and the pressure lightened from her chest, the door opened again and in walked two women. They walked around her, looked at each other without saying a word, then one knelt down next to her head and touched Kagome's battered neck. Her touch was soft, tentative, but it still hurt. She moaned a little and the touch let up.

Then the next thing she knew she was held up in strong—but definitely feminine—arms and carried out of the room. Past the door, she thought she saw vague figures in the corner of her eyes but she couldn't be sure.

They moved in the shadows, out of sight, leaping from places to places with the agility of jungle cats, and even while they were jumping about—travelling significant distance in the shade of the village buildings—not once did their rocky movements disturb Kagome in any way. These warrior women reminded her of Sango.

A couple more minutes then they stopped. Their destination was, much to Kagome's surprise, a bathhouse of all thing.

Well, not really a bathhouse proper. It was nowhere near as big as the ones she used to frequent for once. There was no shallow pool, only pots and bowls of various sizes and two off-white clay tubs in the middle. Only then did Kagome remember she hadn't once washed herself since coming to this world. Not out of choice but rather out of a complete lack of water to begin with. In a desert nation, only the rich had enough water for anything other than was absolutely vital for everyday life and she had been spending the few last months with the poorest of the village.

There were layers and layers of accumulated grime and dirt on her skin and if it weren't for the sterile environment of the desert and the daily scotching of the sun, she probably would have stank to high heaven by now.

There was a flurry of movements and suddenly she was naked and gently lowered into the half-filled tub where the two warrior women proceeded to give her the fastest and probably most water conserving washing in her life. They wiped her down with wet towels, gingerly inching around the golden bracelet that clasped her right wrist in a vice-like embrace, and rinsed her hair - coarse with several months worth of sand grain and filth on them - with a single bucket of water. They brushed her teeth, brushed her hair and cut off the split ends with weird knife things when they were at it, put some salve on her tender throat and bandaged it up, rubbed her blistering, dry skin moist with ointment. Then she was taken out, fluffed down in fuzzy white towels, set on her feet and came away squeaky clean and smelling faintly of tundra cotton.

All of this was done within a short five minutes, with sharp, precise and almost frantic but amazingly well coordinated movements of their arms and hands, and once they were done they regarded her with a shared look, as if checking if the end result of their labor met with the standard of… whoever made them do this. Probably that grouchy Mr. Shadow of the Wind Satoosa.

During all of this five minute express washing experience, Kagome said not a word. Not the first time she had been brought through a mildly bewildering washing experience, only this time even if she wanted to protest (Which she didn't. The grime really was driving her up the wall), she had no words with which to voice her complaint.

One of the warrior women, this one wearing a dark veil that hid half her face, brought a mirror and put it right in front of her and in its reflection, wavering in the weak sunlight that streamed through little wind holes in the roof and the sides of the bathhouse, Kagome saw herself.

For a moment, she couldn't recognize the girl standing naked in the low light right in front of her. The face, wan with hardship long since past but could never be forgotten, and while the features were smooth and plump with youth there was an underset of a bottomless melancholy. The body, edged and raw with months going without the proper nutrition, brown and brittle with the sun and the wind, seemed sanded down by the desert itself. The neck, bruised and painted in blots of red and purple from Satoosa's grip. The bandages hid most but in the fraying edges they could still be seen.

The golden bracelet glinted in its place on her wrist. It was breathtaking with its delicately looping vines and blossoms but it also felt cold and heavy and rife with dark promises but she was long since caring what such promises meant.

Kagome put a hand on the girl in the mirror's face and said - "Smile" - and watched her managed something almost half hearted - "You must live. So smile"

They took away the mirror and wrapped her in clean, white linen, the design of the clothes - simple but clearly of fine quality shirt, skirt, shaw and coat - reminiscent of Sengoku Jidai fashion if a little looser.

"Miko-san…" The warrior women called her, then spoke to her in low, soft murmurs as if reassuring a child. They led her out of the bathhouse, carried her in their arms and took off in their gazelle-like leaping in the shadow of the village.

The second destination was a building carved out from the jutting edge of the mountain itself. It stood, head in the sun and feet deep in the depth of its own shadow. The gigantic door gaped open in waiting and something told her that this was the final destination for the day.

A group of people came out to greet them. Two… bald-headed monks… escorted by a squad of the warrioress' male counterparts. A couple women dressed in modest sandy colored garb trailed behind, peering at her with eyes half curious half reverent.

Gently, the duo deposited her in front of the waiting retinue and with a soft nudge, pushed her towards them. She got what they were trying to say immediately without their needing to say another word. Months living without proper communication with another human, the incident with Satoosa excluded, had conditioned her for languages of the unspoken kind. She gave a good long look at the building in front of her.

Austere, as the desert in which it made its home in, and with an air that said this was no mere abode of someone of high status, if the Bodhisattva-like statues she could see past the waiting doorway and the monk presence were anything to go by. This was a temple and by the elaborately gilded twin statues guarding the doorway, not one of any small importance either.

Fitting, considering that she had made sure she was known as a priestess. She supposed this was what Satoosa meant when he said she would be 'taken care of'.

"Is this to be my new home?" She asked no one in particular. One of the monks said something in reply, making a beckoning gesture. She smiled at him, happy at the welcoming motion. "I shall not deny anything that is given to me in good faith."

She crossed the stretch of empty, dusty street in between in steps. When she was almost to the other side, a sound, choked, barely audible and somehow filled with regret stopped her in her track. Looking back behind her shoulder, she saw one of the two warrior women who had brought her here had double down, her hands clutching something tightly to her chest, then, under Kagome's gaze, she opened them, revealing tiny blue seeds in her palms. Her eyes begged, but the eyes of her comrades turned cold and hard and unforgiving.

Someone said something in harsh, cutting tones, but the woman was wreathed in a deep red pain that only she could see. Unlike Satoosa, Kagome didn't need to reach out to read her heart. It was open and the strength of its grief did not whisper but scream in tones of silence. It reached out to her, visceral and almost blinding, the kind of manic, hysterical pain that could only come after years of being repressed, simmering underneath the surface of normality, simmering to the point of boiling, overflowing, bursting forth from underneath in violent ruptures once it found its outlet.

She saw flashes of a desert gravesite, blue flowers in a cracked vase on the table, a child waiting forlornly in an empty room in the warrior woman's mind, looking out the window, forever looking out the empty window, waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to come back and fill the emptiness in the frame. The flowers bloomed blue, bloomed green, bloomed red, bloomed yellow and wilted in the blistering desert sun, in the withering desert night wind, but the window frame was ever empty. _Why didn't he come back? Where was he? Did he leave forever?_

Without preamble and against the wishes of the harsh calls on her sides, Kagome backtracked two steps, held out one hand in the air. The sheer strength of the warrioress' desire beckoned her, called to her to fulfill her purpose. The disembodied Shikon jewel that now beat in the place of her human heart pulsed, glowed, breathed and awakened. The seeds in the warrioress' hands came to life, unfurled, blooming a brilliant blue before her wide, disbelieving eyes and open mouth.

There was a stunned silence to the clearing and its occupants now.

" Ariga..." The warrioress said something, gasping through the tears that came welling from her eyes. The depth of her gratitude bled into her words and carried her will past the barrier of language.

Kagome had just enough time to smile encouragingly in return before she herself was whisked inside the temple and the door slammed close.

* * *

"What happened in there?" Said Chiyo to the back of her village Kage. He was still trembling but the quivers of his frame so subtle and well hidden that only the most observant of eyes could see. A miniscule motion to the side of his jaws was the only indication that he had heard her.

"Yondaime." She pushed, having witnessed the strange turns of events that transpired in the sealing room, between the Kazekage and the girl, and the her being subsequently carted off to the Sand Temple. "I've never seen you this shaken before. Not after the Third War." She said. "What did that girl do to you?"

A sudden stillness came over him and very slowly, he turned around to face her.

"Nothing." He said. "Absolutely nothing."

"Lying is unbecoming of you, Kazekage-sama." She admonished. "You lost control. We have both established that the girl's power is too useful for us to look the other way. Even if she were dangerous… especially if she were dangerous, she must be kept alive and her power harvested and bred into our bloodline for the sake of Sunagakure, until her blood itself becomes our legacy, ours to own and use. You yourself were adamant of this. Even had she… somehow… killed you back there, it would still be my duty as an elder of this village to see to it that her power be harvested for the good of us all. Whatever she did to you could not have been enough of a threat for you to attempt to kill her… in cold blood. And you fully intended to kill her. I could feel your intention all the way through the seals... and your chakra. Not once were you in mortal danger. So tell me, what did a little slip of a civilian girl managed to do, in the face of one among the greatest warriors of our village, that unhinged you so?"

When he still didn't reply, she coldly stated. "We… no… you… planned from the very beginning that you yourself would personally see to her integration to our village. The Kazekage himself would act as her sole protector, teacher and caregiver in order to foster her eventual dependency… and hopefully, loyalty… to the bloodline of the Kazekage, and subsequently to our village… similar to Kumogakure's handling of their Biiju. Eventually, if the molding of Kagome Higurashi goes well, it would also fall to the bloodline of our Kazekage to… take things to the next step. Yet…"

He turned around and faced her then, as if summoned by the accusation that was to come from Chiyo.

"Yet…" She continued. "... here you stand before me, and you cannot even bear to talk of her influence on you. The little harmless civilian girl half your age… whom you are supposed to enthrall to our allegiance."

There was a ponderous silence this time, the feel like air being pushed inside a small space, pressurized until it gained thickness. At which point it stopped, and Satoosa of the Desert brought his hands to his face, wiped it, and the mask on it came crumbling away under his fingers.

"She stepped into my mind." He said softly.

"Like the Konohan Yamanaka mind technique?"

"No..." He paused for a single second. "She could not read my thoughts…" He did not have to elaborate. His and Chiyo's background as jutsu R&D specialists enabled them to discuss the intricacies of foreign bloodline techniques on a far higher plateau than normal shinobis of the same rank or power. In this case, the unsaid part was the sole focus of the Yamanaka mind technique. Designed and developed as a recon and info gathering technique set, the Yamanaka arts concerned itself solely with mental domination and information extraction. "... she could not influence me." Or else the print of his hand would not even find itself anywhere near her throat.

"... But?" Chiyo prodded when he stopped there.

He drew out, stalling. "... empathy…" Was the only explanation he offered. "... mutual... empathy…"

"... I see…" Said Chiyo, a glint of interest in her gnarled old face. She had enough tact not to prod on what exactly he felt from his end, but her curiosity was apparent. He can well relate. Empathic powers were something of an incomplete puzzle in the ninja world. Open to manipulation, but absolutely cannot be faked, its potentials were… intriguing but the path of development limited and its uses in ninja warfare even more so. What it could potentially do in reconnaissance and infiltration were already done and quite possibly done much better by techniques similar to the Konohan Yamanaka clan. There were… nascent instances of such abilities budding in a handful of individuals within the ninja world, but without fail, their talents were routed to other more practical alternatives, petered out altogether, or outshone and made obsolete by other subsets of bloodlimit. Either way, he needed not give any further explanation than the ones Chiyo had already concluded herself.

Shinobis were, as a rule, intensely private individual, especially so when it came to personal matters, and there were nothing more personal than their state of emotions. To touch upon that, to force herself within another's world, and then to plummet him into her own.

Offense of the highest kind.

"... This changes nothing. We proceed as planned." He said, softly, because even his best Kazekage voice wouldn't faze the old poison master, but there was no room for argument in his voice.

Chiyo merely gave him a look, as if voicing her unspoken questions. Even the forceful invasion of his emotional state should not have provoked such brutal retaliation, the explanation he gave was a non explanation, designed to hide the truth beneath it. They might be allies now, but in the past wars had transpired between the Leaf and the Sand. Sabaku no Satoosa was no stranger to mental invasions, if he were, he wouldn't have made it past the third great ninja war. So the girl's faux pas could not have been what set him off. It must be something else. Something that transpired within that short lived state of mutual empathy. But eventually, she simply clicked her tongue reproachfully at him.

"I should hope so." Before turning her attention to the decrees he had laid out on the table. Plans to harvest Mumei… Kagome Higurashi's powers. Village policies and decrees that would shape the very direction of the village and their everyday function to accommodate a single new presence among their midst. Never before in the history of Sunagakure had so many changes been prepared for the sake of one single person.

He followed the line of her sight, and despite himself, could not stop the thought that this was but a mere premonition of the future. The words and laws that he himself scripted and authorized. The great upheavals ahead. It might have been a residue of the girl's touch in his mind and the beguiling nature of her own power but he could not help but think that they were at a historical crossroad past which there would be no return.

"We are Suna nins." Chiyo smiled wrily, having harbored the same thoughts. "We make the most of what the desert gives us and prosper."

Kagome Higurashi had no recorded past beyond her sudden appearance at the village gate. The desert brought her to them. A gift. An offering.

"So let it begins."

* * *

Her first morning in the temple, they came over to take her to the washhouse again, then to eat, then to have her photos taken and papers straightened out. Someone braught more clothes over and the women tittered about her as they wrapped and dressed her in soft, silky shirts and dresses. Before the sun had fully risen from the horizon, her pictures were stamped and laminated on what must be the Sand people's equivalent to the ID card. Very formally and in bold letters, it stated Kagome Higurashi - Miko, or so said one of the veiled guards. And while all this happened, she was attended to by no less than three other people.

Mr. Poker Face really wasn't joking when he said they would take care of her.

Mid-morning, they brought the seeds over by the barrels. In the chants of the monk, Kagome set to work.

It was May. She grew soybeans and corns.

In the night, Mr. Poker Face came over. When he walked into the cavernous room she had come to understand was 'given to her', all the others, the guards with the masked faces, the lady caretakers with the full veils, cleared out. He spent maybe a minute under the threshold studying her in silence, then in slow ponderous strides, he walked in.

When he was three steps away, Kagome blurted out.

"I... sorry." She just learned the new word too.

He stilled for a moment, before holding out a hand to her. The now very familiar translating Fuin glittered black on his palm. She took his hand without hesitation.

'Don't ever do that again.' He said in the slow, stern voice of her father, dredged from far-off memories when he was still with the family. She shook her head violently as if saying 'No, I won't.'

There was a short pause thereafter during which Kagome expected Mr. Poker Face to at least start asking how she was settling in and other polite questions of the same ilk, but when he finally spoke, his statement was curt and to the point, and more an order than an offer.

'I shall teach you our language. Pay attention.' Then he proceeded to do just that.

When the gruelling first lesson was over, he led her out of her room, past winding hallways and many layers of doors and chanting monks until they ended up in the back of the temple which opened up into a gigantic cave deep into the side of the mountain. A skywell filled the room with moonlight. He made a vague gesture at the tilled earth, the bags filled with seeds propped against the wall, and at the cave itself.

"Yours." He said in the Sand people language. 'Do with it as you like.' Then with the voice of one of her friends.

* * *

June came in her second week at the temple. She grew starchy wheat and sweet, succulent mandarins with the seeds they gave her, then grew sugar canes from a single piece of dried up, dead stalk in her little garden, which she styled from the cave 'given to her' by Mr. Poker Face.

That one was a surprise. Like the first seed she found in the trash heaps, here was another unexpected find. Sugarcanes were infamously water intensive in their growth. Not a crop suitable to life in arid areas so the fact the a little dead piece of it could be found here, among the odd, dead pieces of other unknown plants was something of a small miracle in itself.

When the shoots crowded out a good part of the cave, grew past her head and started sprouting flower stalks, she broke up pieces of it and, carrying her sugary bundle in both hands, headed to the cave mouth where her veiled guards stood in wait.

"I would… like to go out." She said in careful enunciation. "I want… to give these.. to… I want to go out."

There was a moment of hesitation when her guards exchanged silent looks.

"Please…" She added.

One of them appeared to cave and nodded mutely at her before leading the way out. His companion lingered behind to take up the rest of the sugar canes before following.

The streets of the sand village were as sun-filled and dusty as ever, but this time around, it seemed a little livelier, and the people that walked its length more open to smiles she would like to think. The air smelled of spice. The wild wind ran through her hair and followed her as she meandered her way through the village. She walked in small, hurried steps, somehow feeling the nostalgia and nervousness welling up in her. She thought of the orphan children and the old, homeless people that filled more than half the center. Sweet things were naturally a rare luxury for the desert-bound. She could only imagine the look on their faces when she presented her come-home gifts to them.

When the Sand village Center for the Homeless appeared at the end of the street, someone cried out.

"Miko?"

She stopped and turned. At the end of her gaze milled about ropes of people at the beginning of a bazaar alley, and within the intertwining twists and turns of these ropes, a strange woman in plain clothes stared at her with wide eyes. When they made eye contact, it seemed the woman recognized something because immediately, she cried out again.

"... Miko-sama…" This time, her voice caught the attention of those around her and at once Kagome found herself the target of countless eyes. The crowd stilled, stirred, then in small, scattered bursts, people called out.

".. Miko-sama?" … Miko?" "Honto ni?" "... Miko-san…" "... Miko-sama…" Some people fell down, some cried out in tears, some started to take small steps towards her, eyes disbelieving and with the barest hint of gratitude. Her guards stiffened and took positions in front and behind her, but Kagome herself was not worried at all. She could feel no ill will from the crowd, and now that she put her full attention to them, saw more than a few familiar faces among the sea of strangers, so true to herself and much to the chagrin of her caretakers, she took off towards them, smiling.

* * *

"... She did what?"

Sabaku no Satoosa stilled, reclined back into his chair, brought a hand to his temple where the start of yet another bout of migraine was nesting.

" Miko Kagome Higurashi grew a small forest of sugarcanes in the East end of the village, right on the doorstep of our House for the Needy. The majority of this forest was subsequently stripped away and… consumed onsite... by nearby citizens."

"...Which somehow consisted of nearly half our population? I could see the gathering from my Kage tower."

"Our Eastern districts are notoriously more crowded than other districts as you well know." Said the surveillance nin. "A good part of their new population are also… past members of the Homeless Center. In so far, they have been the ones impacted the most by the influx of provisions and jobs created by Miko Kagome Higurashi's power and it seemed, quite a few of them remembered her from her time at the Center. They were the most… vocal… in welcoming her back to the Center."

"... I trust that she has been brought back to Saruka Temple?"

"Miko-san has been forcibly removed from the East end district and brought back to her assigned abode." The surveillance nin replied automatically, then added. "The members of civic council are concerned on her sudden and unplanned public appearance. They are worried this will confirm as well as debunk many rumors we have started regarding her existence and the extent of her power to… unwanted individuals and may lead to negative impact on the inter-village market."

"It will not. We have prepared for this. And in the case that other villages became aware of her existence, we will progress with our own plans. They could hardly argue with the good we have done on the market itself." He said in return. " As for the girl, I will speak to her."

* * *

The sight that greeted him at the doorway to the Miko's room was of the girl herself sprawling haphazardly on top a thick fur blanket as she chattered incessantly away in broken Ryukyuan to her handmaidens. The conversations were one-sided. Her caretakers were forbidden from ever speaking to her. They weren't, however, required to turn deaf ears on her. Odds and ends lay about the room in clutters. Things that weren't in the safe list. Gifts from her admirers he guessed. He would need to talk to the captain in charge. She propped herself up on both hands when she spotted him at the door and cried out happily.

"Shadow of the Wind Satoosa-san!" Then an inordinately pleased look spread across her face and she held up a hand at him. "Wait." Her nose scrunched up as she attempted to recall something, then smoothed out as she grasped hold of it. "Welcome home, darling!" She twittered, looking mighty proud of herself.

The handmaidens stiffened at the girl's exclamation, eyeing him nervously. He narrowed his eyes at them, and without needing a word out of him, they cleared out with record speed.

"Who taught you that?"

"People!" was her way too perky reply.

He took her hand, palm up. 'Do not use it. It is inappropriate.'

"Why not? Many people… called me… today… this way."

'It is inappropriate to me.'

She eyed him sceptically, but didn't push. "You should… happy? I am good, hard working student. I learn… out of class."

'Ignorance and zealotry do not make for a productive combination.'

She pursed her lips at him but did not rebuke.

'You went out today.' It was not a question.

"I did." The girl deigned to answer anyway. "It was…" She floundered around for a descriptive word but couldn't find one because he hadn't yet taught her any of such kind. "... sugar… It was sugar." She held up a sugarcane for extra effect.

The word she was looking for was 'fun'. But after that incident today, he was not in a particularly giving mood.

'You should not have. You could have put yourself in danger. This village is not a peaceful one.'

"No one wants… wanted… to harm me." She said, frowning. "No sword. No kunai. No puppet. No shuriken. No poison darts. No iron war fan." She listed, using the words he taught her on their second lesson.

'You could not have known.'

"I do know."

'You don't.'

"Satoosa-san need… needs… more sugar in life." She huffed, then announced, holding the freshly cut sugarcane at him in offer. He rose an eyebrow at the offending item.

'Pay attention ignorant child.' He said, squeezing her hand. Golden tendrils floated from the bracelet on her wrist, formed cold and delicate vines around her throat and turned her chin until she was looking him in the eye.

'I will teach, and you will learn.'

* * *

1/ I had fun writing this

2/ I wrote this right smack dab during my editorial cycle. My editor in Chief is not going to be happy with me if he finds out.

3/ What do you think is the real reason the 4th Kazekage flipped out last chapter? I really had fun leaving that part up to reader's interpretation. Last chapter alone I received many feedbacks on the last scene (choking) of the chapter and the strange thing is: each of the people who read the part had a different interpretation of the scene. Not one of them was like the other though there are a few main similarities. Some interpreted the scene, the symbolics in it and the subtexts underneath positively, some negatively, and some neutral but as a foreshadowing of Kagome's relationship with the Kazekage lineage and Sunagakure. That makes me happy as a writer because only good writing can evoke that kind of varied emotional and mental reactions from people. As to my own interpretation of it and how it will play out in the main storyline, I guess we will all have to wait and see.

4/ Next chapter: Kagome's impact on Suna economy specifically and the world economy as a consequence. Also, Gaara! They meet for the first time.

5/ It seems no one guessed correctly what the 5K thing is. Haha, to be honest I did not expect that much response. It was just a throwaway comment that I felt was safe since this fic is one among my lesser popular ones. My more popular stories, I wouldn't have dared to make that kind of comment for fear of actually having to own up to my promises. I will own up, but that probably will be very painful to me.

6/ Popular answers as to what the 5K thing is include: the 5th Kazekage Gaara, 5000 words of lemon writing, or the Gaara/Kagome pairing. Well, people really do veer towards the pervy side of things don't they?

7/ Anyhow, I guess I should answer what the 5K thing is. You see, it is… the result of a mathematical equation. Here, lemme show you:

**4**th **K**azkage + **K**agome = **5K**

See. Simple. It basically is a term I made up to tease my beta, who has taken quite fondly to the pairing. I told her it sounded like the chemical name of a compound, especially if it morphs into a triangle. Our convo started out as discussion and planning on the romantic aspect of the story. I rarely plan ahead in terms of story romance since I'm a staunch believer of characterization and plot before romance. This is something of a special case though because I have always seen Kagome's boundless ability to love and be loved in return as a focal point to her character, and leaving such a large part of the main char unplanned is not something to be done. Eventually we stumbled into who (or what) should be the other end of this romance, and that conversation… quickly devolved into a crack fest during which we sprang crack pairings at each other and came up with ways to make it work. Aside from the 5K thing, we also have:

a/ The G5K thing (see! Now it definitely sounds like something out of chem class). I will leave to your imagination what it is.

b/ Ebizo (Chiyo's brother). Because love knows no age!

c/ Temari. It sure does not know gender either!

d/ Sasori of the Red Sand. Kagome will be loved and still stay chaste because he basically is a Ken doll… unless he makes himself otherwise in which case he pretty much becomes a Babeland private product.

e/ Deidara. He went to blow up Suna and met her. Love on the background of mass murder and explosion. What is more romantic a first date for Deidara than that?

f/ The 3rd Kazekage (Sasori's puppet). How is this going to work? Simple, the Shikon's power can easily revive even the dead or untangle soul and let them move on. Kagome tags along on the Save Gaara mission, saw the guy's soul lingering around the puppet, takes pity on him and untangle his soul, hoping for him to move on… except he hangs around instead in gratitude and to find a way to repay. Ghost ship ahoy!

g/ And many more mind-breaking crack ships.

It was for the lulz.

8/ On the other hand though, this is not in any way confirmation that Gaara's dad x Kagome (I laughed out loud any time I refer to him as such. It sounded… naughty) really is the romantic aspect/couple of this story. At least not entirely any way.

***Troll Face***


End file.
